 | Moral songs |  |
THE VILLAGE WELL.
It lies some paces from the road,
A time-worn bucket o'er it hung,
The grass is greener round about,
Where year by year, its wave has sprung.
A time-worn bucket o'er it hung,
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Where year by year, its wave has sprung.
Still bubbling upward silently,
Without a murmur or a sound,
You just can see the waters shine,
Down many feet below the ground.
Without a murmur or a sound,
You just can see the waters shine,
Down many feet below the ground.
The wood-work round its margin set,
Is grown with moss, and lichen grey;
The frame whereon the bucket hangs,
Has mouldered many times away.
Is grown with moss, and lichen grey;
The frame whereon the bucket hangs,
Has mouldered many times away.
And still the wave that springs below,
Is cool, and clear, and changeth not;
The weary traveller knows it well,
And there will rest at noontime hot.
Is cool, and clear, and changeth not;
The weary traveller knows it well,
And there will rest at noontime hot.
The village maids at eventide,
Come there, the pitcher in their hand;
And round about the village well,
In lingering converse love to stand.
Come there, the pitcher in their hand;
And round about the village well,
In lingering converse love to stand.
Still deep below, its quiet breast,
Doth never change, doth never move;
But from its lowly earthen bed,
Reflecteth clear the sky above.
Doth never change, doth never move;
But from its lowly earthen bed,
Reflecteth clear the sky above.
The bucket when it breaks the wave,
Mars for a while the picture fair:
It rises up; the shadow flies,
And heaven again is mirrored there.
Mars for a while the picture fair:
It rises up; the shadow flies,
And heaven again is mirrored there.
The image of a holy man,
Who doeth well his earthly part,
Still yielding freely of his store,
To nerve the limb, and cheer the heart:
Who doeth well his earthly part,
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To nerve the limb, and cheer the heart:
Whose days in some calm lonely place,
Their quiet course in silence run,
Who never murmurs on his way,
Nor boasts of righteous actions done:
Their quiet course in silence run,
Who never murmurs on his way,
Nor boasts of righteous actions done:
Whose peaceful mind is sometimes vexed,
By care, or strife, or sorrow riven,
But as it settles into calm,
Is full of thoughts, and hopes of heaven.
By care, or strife, or sorrow riven,
But as it settles into calm,
Is full of thoughts, and hopes of heaven.
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